Mr. Saelinger,
Thank you for trusting us with the truth.
Priya
For the first time in five years, I feel like I’ve done the right thing.
20
Amara
Ispend the rest of the day at the clinic reviewing predatory land-lease contracts with Corin and trying not to stare at his forearms, as usual.
Yep.
Those forearms of his are becoming a real problem.
“You’re staring,” Corin says without looking up.
“I’m observing,” I correct him. “There’s a legal distinction.”
“Is there?”
“No.” I return to my own stack of islander files. Three families facing displacement, two already behind on payments to shell companies we’re pretty sure connect back to Xavier’s network. “But it sounded good.”
He laughs heartily.
That laugh keeps catching me off guard. He used to never laugh like this. But now? He lets himself be seen.
The Corin I knew five years ago was all controlled precision. You’d never catch him laughing.
This version is different.
Scarred, yes. But softer.
And still calculating, true, but also more honest about the cost.
I watch him annotate a clause about early termination penalties, which seems to be Xavier’s favorite trap, and I think about the memo Corin sent earlier.
Five years ago, I discovered that a client of this firm was engaged in financial misconduct...
I demanded action.
And then I stayed silent when the board overruled me.
The words have been rattling around my head since I read them. Since he named Leena. Since he exposed himself to his entire organization because he decided transparency mattered more than self-preservation.
Who does that?
Who voluntarily tears open their own chest and shows everyone the mess inside?
Apparently Corin Saelinger does.
And I have no idea what that means.
We work until late afternoon.
Keon picks us up in the SUV.
